Locked away, the cardinals who select a new pope shroud their deliberations in mystery, but Peter Stanford cracks their code of silence to offer a glimpse of what really goes on

T
here is nothing that can quite rival the spectacle of a conclave of
cardinals. You may not give a damn about whom they will pick as the next
Pope, but the sight of all these elderly men from around the world, kitted
out outrageously in black dresses, red cummerbunds and red hats, and
accompanied by choirs singing Veni, Creator Spiritus as they process into
the Sistine Chapel, focuses the eyes of the world on Catholicism as little
else can.

There is the exclusivity of it all: this is the one club you cannot buy your
way into. And the extreme theatricality: Catholicism, in its liturgy,
buildings and fittings and fixtures has a centuries-old talent for drama.
But underpinning the global audience appeal is the element of mystery. For
once the 115 members of this electoral college gather to cast their votes
beneath Michelangelo’s Last Judgment, the doors will close behind